Fire and the Thud
by Psyche Wix
Summary: When Bella is followed one night by a strange tattooed man who walks with a cane she never expects to develop feelings for him. Under unexpected circumstances they meet again and from then on they are unable to stay away from one another, regardless of the consequences. Rated M for adult themes.
1. Chapter 1: Dangerous Animals

_**Pinned down by the dark**__**  
**__**Been fighting with my sheets**_

_**Nearly crying in my sleep**_

_**Yes, I'm battling that well taught gripe**_

_**The most frustrating type**_

_** -Arctic Monkeys, Dangerous Animals**_

**Chapter 1: Dangerous Animals**

The side streets of New York were bare at night. There were no overzealous tourists, no businessmen shouting into their cell phones, no up and coming musicians singing and playing guitar hoping for a dollar to drop in their guitar cases, there was nothing, just dark empty sidewalks.

I'd stayed late at the library researching for my psychology project. I'd only been asked to leave when the librarian was doing her last round. She found me in the back corner, huddled quietly over a book. I apologized timidly while gathering my papers and shoved them into my beat up messenger bag. When I was walking down the steps toward the street I'd realized I'd stayed later than I'd planned.

I checked my phone; it was already nine thirty. The streetlights were the only thing lighting my path. I thrust my phone into my bag and pulled my hoodie around my small frame as I ambled quickly down the sidewalk. I'd found a shortcut to the subway a few days ago, I had to cut through some alleyways but it cut the usual time in half, so it was well worth it.

About halfway through my walk I noticed something. A strange man was following me. He'd been behind me for the past three blocks. I turned my head to attempt to catch a glimpse of him. He was tall – at least six foot – and had a lanky frame. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, casting a shadow of his face. Also, I noticed that he was limping. Strange. A black cane was in his right hand, supporting his body weight. I relaxed after that, assuming it was only an old man taking a late night stroll.

My walk was quite peaceful until I heard someone clearing their throat from behind me. "Miss?" a melodic voice inquired. This voice definitely did not belong to an old man; it was smooth and rich and sent chills down my spine. I looked behind me; there was no one else around me, no other woman he could be calling too.

My heart rate picked up and I quickened my pace. The shuffling of his footsteps became louder and faster. "Miss!" he called out. I could feel my heart beating in my ears and I panicked.

I began running, nearly tripping over my own clumsy feet, and hugged my messenger bag tightly to my side. I abruptly turned the corner, out onto the main street; I quickly booked down the stairs and into the subway station. When I was on the main floor of the station I stopped and looked behind me. There was no one.

I let out a heavy sigh and reached into my bag for my wallet. I shuffled around in the bag, not finding my old leather wallet. I pulled out all my books, supporting them with my left arm while I searched through the bag with my other hand. I started panicking. I must have dropped it while I was walking from the library. I couldn't go back and get it without potentially encountering the man who had been following me. But if I didn't have my wallet I couldn't –

"Miss?"

"Oh!" I jumped and turned rapidly, dropping my books to the ground, papers scattering around the white tile floor.

Now in front of me was the man who'd been following me. He was leaning on his cane, propping himself up. I was shocked at what I saw. He had a mess of bronze and gold hair that was sticking up every which way. His hair contrasted with his vivid jade green eyes. He had a sharp jaw line and high cheekbones. But what caught me off guard the most were his tattoos. He had two tiny black crosses at the corner of each eye and what appeared to be a tribal tattoo climbing up his neck. The tattoos suited him well.

I quickly realized I was staring at him like an idiot and bent to pick up my books. "I'm such an idiot," I muttered under my breath, gathering my books in my arms.

He dropped his cane and bent down to help me. "I'm sorry for startling you, Miss." he said quietly, dropping his eyes and picked up a few of my books, handing them to me. I quickly and chaotically tossed them into my bag.

"Don't be," I said shyly, standing and smiling shyly. I was nervous around him.

He stood slowly, like an old man would stand up if he had fallen. He smiled at me and reached into his jacket pocket. I took a step back expecting it to be a gun or knife when I realized he had my wallet. "You dropped this," he said, giving me a timid crooked smile, holding out his hand which I also noticed was tattooed. His knuckles read 2004.

"Oh! Thank you! I had no idea where it was." I said, taking it from him and opening it to check it contents.

"Everything is still there." he muttered as I flipped through the wallet. He was right. Everything was still there. "I wouldn't steal from you,"

I looked up at him. "I didn't think you –" I stopped short. But I did think he had stolen from me, didn't I? He was covered in tattoos, and walking around the streets of Brooklyn at night. I had assumed he was a thug when he was following me, hadn't I? "I mean I didn't –"  
"You did." he said, interrupting me. His tone was sharp – to the point. "But I didn't take anything. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." He glared at me and turned away, limping back up the stairs.

"Wait!" I shouted, running after him to the bottom of the concrete steps. "Thank you!"

He didn't turn around as he stepped out into the cool night air.

**A/N: Alright so this is my first, I know. Bare with me here for these first few chapters. This story will be a long and intense ride. There will be much more character development to come in the next chapter. Thanks so so so much for reading. Give it a chance? I bet you'll like it. Reviews please! **


	2. Chapter 2: Again

_**He'll wrap you in his arms**_

_**Tell you that you've been a good boy**_

_**He'll rekindle all those dreams**_

_**It took you a lifetime to destroy**_

_**-Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Red Right Hand**_

**Chapter 2: Again**

_I ran out into the bright sunlight, cringing when it hit my eyes. I turned slightly – he wasn't behind me anymore. I bent over and braced myself on my knees, struggling to catch my breath. I looked back again – still nothing. And then I heard the voice, the whistling and my name being called, over and over again in a smooth sing-song voice._

_ I started to run again, the wind whipped through my hair and my eyes watered from the cold, bitter air. The footsteps behind me grew louder. I couldn't see where I was going; my vision blurred from panic. Although at this moment I didn't care, all I wanted was to get away and find help. _

_ The footsteps and heavy breathing behind me faded into silence. I calmed down a bit, my heart rate slowed and I slowly came to a stop. When my vision cleared I saw where I was. My sneakers sunk into the damp leaves and twigs on the ground below me and I leaned against the soggy bark of a leafless tree. I was in the woods, but it looked all too familiar. _

_ Was I in Forks? _

_ The trees seemed to be reaching out for me, calling me. Their branches twisted and curved into an opened a path where I saw a man standing and staring into my eyes, his harsh gaze was furious. The branches grew, one wrapped around my arm and muddy roots climbed my legs. I panicked, flailing and waving my arms, pulling them off me. I dodged their branches and started to run again. My feet screamed for me to stop, my tennis shoes were caked with brown mud, and the soles of the shoes were nearly letting in. _

_ "Bella, Bella, Bella," a voice breathed in my ear. "You can't run outrun me, girl!"_

_ I screamed, terror coursing through my veins and I tripped over my own feet, falling into the muddy ground below me. A hand grabbed my suede jacket and heaved me from the ground, hugging my back to his firm chest, his arms wrapped tightly around my torso. _

_ "Please," I pleaded. "Don't hurt me!"_

_ "Oh, Bella baby," he whispered as he ran his nose along my jaw line. "Don't be afraid,"_

_ I shuddered and felt the tears well in my eyes._

_ He gripped my shoulders and spun me around, my legs giving out from under me. He held me tightly against his body. His tattooed hand came up to grip my chin, forcing me to look up into his eyes and what I saw there frightened me more than anything else._

I woke up to the shrill ringing of my alarm clock. I slammed my palm down on it, silencing it for the time being. I rolled over and sat up, disoriented from my nightmare. My head spun as I scrubbed my hands down my face, letting out a heavy breath between my fingers.

It'd been two weeks since I'd seen him, so why was his face constantly appearing in my thoughts? He frightened me. He meant nothing to me; I didn't even know his name. But I couldn't deny the attraction I'd felt when I'd been near him. He had a sort of mysteriousness about him that drew me in and left me wanting more. His tattoos gave him an intimidating guise that left people staring and avoiding his path.

I shook my head, attempting to clear the unreasonable thoughts in my head. I had to stop. The chance that I'd see him again was nearly one in a million.

I hurriedly climbed out of my bed, throwing on a pair of blue jeans with holes in the knees and a white v-neck shirt. I pulled my converse on while I was heading out the door, nearly tripping over my welcome mat in the process.

I turned around and locked the door to my apartment, checking to make sure the deadbolt would hold. The apartment building I'd moved into was in all probability the cheapest in all of Brooklyn. If you stood outside the building itself you'd most likely think it was abandoned. The red brick was old and crumbling. The front door was black; the paint was chipped so severely that you could see the color they'd attempted to cover up. The fire escape was brown and rusted and looked as if it were going to crumble to the ground below at any moment.

My old red truck was parked in front of the building, blending in with its surroundings. I fought to get the door open and hopped into the cab. My truck was my solace, my only memory of Forks. My father, Charlie, had scraped what little money he'd had together to buy me this hunk of junk for my sixteenth birthday. I'd been so elated when he'd hopped out of the cab, baseball cap on backwards and his old 'Forks Police Department' shirt on. He'd said, "Happy birthday, kiddo", and walked into the house.

I quickly pushed the memory out of my mind as tears came to my eyes and my throat tightened. Charlie had passed away nearly a year ago, suffering a fatal heart attack and going into cardiac arrest almost immediately. I'd told the man to stop smoking, but he was stuck in his ways. I now knew when I'd gotten my stubbornness from.

Shortly after Charlie's death I moved to Brooklyn. I'd received the best scholarship opportunity from Brooklyn College for a degree in psychology. I acted on the offer as soon as possible, desperate to get out of Forks and away from the memories that hit too close to home.

I had the day off today, no classes and no appointments.

I headed straight to the public library.

This is where I felt the most comfortable and relaxed in Brooklyn. When I entered the doors I quickly headed back to the psychology section. I took my time searching for specific informational books. I picked four and slapped them down onto a table in the back corner, sitting one of the old wooden chairs. I pulled my papers out of my bag and went to work.

Nearly an hour in I noticed a tall figure moving between the bookshelves. I brushed it off quickly at first. Typically, there was no one else in this section. It was hidden in the back corner of the library but I assumed it was another psychology student doing research as well. The person was mostly hidden by the shelves books but I could make out the faint outline of a man in a black T-shirt.

He continuously moved among the shelves, shifting his body weight and clearing his throat. I was becoming increasingly irritated. I was so accustomed to working in silence. I slapped my pen down on my notebook and stared at the ceiling, rubbing my hands over my face.

When my gaze fell from the white paneled ceiling I nearly fell from my chair. The man that'd been pacing the isles was now standing in front of my table, leaning on a black cane, green eyes roaming over me with a small crooked smile on his handsome face.

**A/N: Alright so exciting stuff, eh? This next chapter will be a little more interesting. I wanted to give a bit of a hint to Bella's past and her demeanor which will drastically change throughout this story. Oh! And check out my one-shot if you like! I wrote it a while back but it's a bit of fun! More Edward soon to come! ;) Reviews are greatly appreciated! I'll try to make the next few longer. **


	3. Chapter 3: Naive

_**I'm not saying it's your fault**_

_**Although you could've done more**_

_**You're so naïve, yet so**_

_**How could this be done?**_

_**By such a smiling sweetheart**_

_**-The Kooks, Naïve**_

**Chapter 3: Naïve **

"Um, hi?" It sounded like a question when I said it. I felt like an imbecile, sitting there staring at him with my mouth hanging open.

"Hi there," he muttered, smiling shyly and glancing down at the chair in front of him. "Mind if I take a seat?" he asked, nodding toward the chair.

I nodded my head and he sat slowly, propping his cane on the edge of the table. He was wearing a black V neck T-shirt today with a pair of dark blue denim jeans that were slung low on his hips. I tried my hardest not to stare at him like an idiot. He had a full tattoo sleeve on his left arm. On the underside of his forearm was an old decaying tree. The detail was so intricate and highly wrought that somehow I had a rough idea that that tattoo meant something special to him, that it held a place in his heart. Its leaves were falling down around the mangled roots which were drawn at his wrist and there was one lone leaf left at the top of the tree. The long and twisted branches of the tree wrapped around his forearm, almost climbing up. This particular tattoo stood out the most to me and suddenly my dream from last night appeared in my head. I shook it off quickly.

The rest of the sleeve was made up of vines and what appeared to be several different poems and phrases all blended and separated perfectly to look uniform and refined. All of his tattoos were simply works of art.

I glanced to his right arm. On the inside of his right forearm was a black phoenix.

I pried my eyes from his arms.

When I finally looked up to his face I knew that he'd caught me blatantly staring at his tattoos. He raised an eyebrow at me, challenging me to say something. I sighed and ran a hand through my disheveled hair. "Sorry, I –" I stopped myself. "Beautiful. You're tattoos, I mean! They're beautiful, nice. Yeah," I sighed and shook my head.

_Idiot_. I thought. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"You like them?" he asked. His expression was soft, inviting even.

"Yes, absolutely,"

"Interesting." he said. "Most people I meet are turned off by them, they intimidate people, you could say." He shrugged carelessly and rested his hands on the table, clasping them tightly together.

"I think tattoos are amazing. They're unique and every one of them is different. It's a great way to convey different emotions and feelings." I felt like a freak.

"Exactly," he said, smiling.

I nodded my head and smiled softly when he suddenly spoke up again.

"Listen," he paused, green eyes meeting mine. "I wanted to apologize for scaring you the other night."

I felt my eyes widen and my heart raced just thinking about that night. "You didn't –" I said, trying to defend myself.

"Don't pretend with me, girl, you were scared out of your mind. You were running from me like I was Jack the fucking Ripper."

I smiled timidly at his dry humor and shrugged my shoulders.

"Anyway, I saw you come in and I wanted to apologize. I've felt bad about it." he mentioned.

"You remember me?" I asked, baffled he would remember someone he'd talked to for three seconds nearly a fortnight ago.

"A face like yours isn't easy to forget." he stated seriously, eyes trained on mine.

I felt the heat rising to my cheeks almost immediately and shook my head. I've always been what you'd call a "plain Jane". My hair was brown and my eyes were also dark brown. It was hard to stand out in a crowd when you were so ordinary. I blended in, a wallflower. I had a petite nose and nearly translucent skin, both of those qualities not doing much for my sex appeal or charm. I was easy to forget. All throughout high school ninety percent of the population of Forks High School forgot my name, or called me Becca or Beth. I'd had only one boyfriend before that. Mike and I had only dated for about four months. When he became distant and callous I knew something was up. I caught him in bed with Lauren Mallory and walked out on him immediately, regardless of his meager attempts at an apology.

"If you don't believe me just ask every other male you've walked past today, I'm sure they'll be in agreement with me." he said and gave me a wink.

I shook my head again. "Well, I just might have to disagree _mister_…?" I stretched out the last word, leaving an opening for him.

"Masen." he said with a smile. "Edward Masen."

I smirked at the sound of his name. Edward Masen was the kind of name you'd expect to hear in the news or perhaps he would be a member of congress with a regal name such as that. Edward did not fit his persona much at all.

"I'm Bella," He glanced up from the table at my name and gave me a dazzling crooked smile. "Bella Swan."

"Beautiful Bella," he muttered, eyes roaming over my face, making me self conscious. I fidgeted with my hair, pulling on the strands and pushing it out of my face. "It's very fitting."

I didn't realize I'd been biting my lip until he leaned forward and gently pulled my bottom lip from between my teeth. I felt my heart accelerate and my face flushed automatically. I couldn't deny the rush I felt when he'd touched me. He smirked and sat back comfortably in his chair, looking completely unfazed.

"So beautiful Bella," he started. "How often do you come to Brooklyn Public Library, hmm?" He folded his hands under his chin and gazed at me intently.

I shrugged my shoulders suggestively. "I've been coming here for about a week now. I'm researching for my psyche project."

"Psychology?"

I nodded.

"Interesting," he muttered. "Pop quiz," he provoked.

"What?" I started, my eyes widened.

"Analyze me." He smiled brightly, showing off his white teeth. "Decode my behaviors, Bella."

I set my ballpoint pen down on my notebook and glanced up at my subject. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped tightly under his chin, smirking slightly with one corner of his lips turned higher than the other. His jade green eyes held something deeper; he was hiding something from someone. I picked up my pen and twirled it between my fingers as my eyes moved lower, taking in his clothing and body. "Your tattoos," I waved my pen in his direction, pointing absentmindedly towards his arms, neck, and his eyes. "They mean something, all of them – mean something to you – especially the tree on your forearm, that one hits home."

His eyes widened and he sat back in the chair, stunned.

I was on the right track.

"Your body language suggests that you're closed off from people. You're very stiff, notably in your shoulders; it suggests stress in your life. Friends? No. Family? Yes. You're having problems with your family, aren't you?"

He nodded his head and crossed his arms across his chest. "Enough," he chuckled. "I get it, you're good." He waved his hand in front of him, emphasizing his point. "Honestly, I'm quite impressed."

"Thank you," I said. "I've always had a knack for observation."

"So I see," he grinned at me. "I was wondering," He cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms. I noticed the muscles flex in his biceps and forearms and resisted leaning forward to run my hands down his arms. "To make it up to you, you'd maybe have coffee with me tomorrow morning?" He raised an enticing eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

"Yes," I said, before I could even stop myself, deny and go about my business. It didn't seem to bother me that he was possibly dangerous with a reckless past, or perhaps he was reckless overall. He gave me butterflies in my stomach and made my skin tingle with only one single touch.

"Great," He slipped a small piece of paper across the table. "Your posture suggests nervousness and the pulse in your neck is racing. If you call me tonight, I'll know you're sure. I'll be seeing you around, Beautiful." He grabbed his cane from its resting place and stood from the chair, limping away before I could say anything more.

* * *

**A/N:**** Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think of Edward. Mysterious, isn't he? REVIEWS and there'll be tons more Tattward. ;)**


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